The Dude wasn’t really a dominant figure as is. Sure, he was 6’8” and had a good build, but he crumpled into himself with lack of confidence and incompetence. He walked like he felt he didn’t belong, and he was more likely to let people walk all over him. Of everyone to use him in any way, you didn't simply use him. You were his lover, his partner, always willing to do things to benefit him--letting him have a say, treating him like his thoughts and opinions mattered. You were an entirely different case; and though he usually had his way when it came to you, he couldn't help but cave to every inadvertent request of yours. He could tell when you wanted something and wouldn't ask--he always had that sense for you. He was like a dedicated hound, returning from treks with exactly what you didn't know you wanted, but needed. This, however, is an example of a time when you spoke your desires upfront, and he was so eager to follow your lead. A black leather collar covered in silver spikes dangling from his throat, the tag silver and inscribed with his name. You held the leash taut in your impatient hand, tugging him ever so closely. He panted as if he couldn't help himself, hair of warm flames framing his face and cascading like molten lava down his back and chest. His sunglasses were discarded, long gone, leaving his puppy-dog hues of green exposed so openly, glassy and pleading.